


Surprise Me

by Lolanae



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Anal Sex, Awkwardness, M/M, They can't even have sex without arguing, This is E/R - So Angst, adorableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 08:19:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/877654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolanae/pseuds/Lolanae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You aren’t helping the situation, Enjolras.”  Combeferre whispers.</p><p>“You deal with him then.  I’m done.”  Enjolras glares at Grantaire, who finally looks away from him.</p><p>Everyone else sits quietly.  (They later compare it to watching a train wreck, because, well, it was one.)</p><p>“What do you want me to do?  Ground you both?”  Combeferre asks, throwing his hands up in the air.</p><p>“I don’t know, Combeferre.  You’re the smart one, so surprise me.”</p><p>And that is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side adventure to explain just HOW Combeferre surprised Enjolras that is talked about in my fic [Not in Words](http://archiveofourown.org/works/859164/chapters/1645396).

“Apollo, you look like you are ready to present your closing argument to court, not run a meeting out of your apartment.” Grantaire smirks from his spot on the sofa.

“I didn’t have time to change, now unless you have anything important to add, do you mind if I start the meeting?” Enjolras asks, fidgets with his necktie.

“I mind.” Grantaire answers. 

Enjolras ignores him. 

They are having the meeting at Enjolras and Combeferre’s apartment, because the Musain is closed for the weekend. (Musichetta, Joly and Bossuet when on a getaway vacation.) Also absent are the lovebirds – Marius and Cosette – who are off doing something. (No one bothered to ask, because everyone knew Marius would spill all the details first thing Monday morning.)

Combeferre and Courfeyrac sigh each other. 

_This isn’t going to end well._ Combeferre writes on a legal pad in front of him on the kitchen table.

 _No shit, we are five minutes in, and they are already itching for a fight._ Courfeyrac replies.

_Is R drunk already? It’s only 3 in the afternoon._

_Eponine says he is sober._ Combeferre scribbles.

_Fucking peachy. How long do you give before they throw punches?_

_Twenty minutes or less._ Combeferre replies.

“If you two are done passing notes, I need your help with the information about the protest rally next week,” Enjolras says sharply.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac look at each other and mutter, “Fuck me,” under their breaths. 

Eponine, Bahorel, Feuilly, and Jehan all share the same “This is going to suck,” look. 

Combeferre’s guess is five minutes too long. 

“Apollo, stop acting like a pretentious asshole. You’re not a Greek god. You’re a professor.” Grantaire snipes without even looking up from his sketch.

“At least I have ambitions above starving artist.” Enjolras retorts.

Grantaire drops his pencil and just stares at Enjolras.

“That was harsh,” Combeferre interjects.

“Well, he started it, ‘Ferre.”

“You aren’t helping the situation, Enjolras.” Combeferre whispers.

“You deal with him then. I’m done.” Enjolras glares at Grantaire, who finally looks away from him.

Everyone else sits quietly. (They later compare it to watching a train wreck, because, well, it was one.)

“What do you want me to do? Ground you both?” Combeferre asks, throwing his hands up in the air.

“I don’t know, Combeferre. You’re the smart one, so surprise me.”

And that is the straw that breaks the camel’s back. 

“Surprise you?” Combeferre echoes.

“You heard me.” Enjolras grumbles.

Combeferre looks over at Bahorel and Fueilly, who are now standing behind Grantaire, still sitting on the couch. 

Courfeyrac moves to the other side of Enjolras.

“We love you two. Really, we do – but – we are tired of this crap. You will work this out, or I swear to God, I’ll disown you both.”

“No you won’t,” Enjolras and Grantaire say at the same time.

More than one of their friends laugh in reply to the dual answer.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre hold on to Enjolras; while Bahorel and Feuilly get Grantaire. 

“What the fuck?” Grantaire protests.

“Cell phone and keys, sweetheart.” Eponine asks Grantaire. “And don’t fight, because I know what pockets you keep them in.”

“Same from you, Enjolras,” Jehan asks.

“How long have you guys been scheming this?” Enjolras wonders.

“You really don’t want to know,” Courfeyrac smirks.

With minimal resistance, Grantaire and Enjolras hand over the requested items. (Because both are smart enough to not test Jehan and Eponine.) 

“Now, you two are – GOING – to talk.” Combeferre says.

“What makes you think we won’t just leave the apartment?” Enjolras asks.

“I’m kind of cozy on the couch.” Grantaire can’t pass up the chance to get under Enjolras’ skin more.

“Call it faith.” Combeferre grins.

“And the fact you two really just need to just f – “Eponine puts a hand over Jehan’s mouth.

Everyone – save Enjolras and Grantaire – slowly back up towards the door.

“How long am I stuck here with him?” Enjolras points to Grantaire, who is now laughing about this situation.

“Until you two can play nice.” Combeferre is trying hard not to giggle now.

“But I don’t wanna be stuck here with him,” Enjolras whines.

Combeferre busts out laughing as they shut the door, leaving Enjolras standing in the middle of the living room – pouting.

“Oh perk up, Enjolras. You get to spend quality time with me,” 

“Just how I wanted to spend my day.” He sinks into the couch, trying his best not to touch Grantaire or to notice how tight his long sleeve thermal shirt is.

Grantaire is telling himself that the sketch he is finishing is not of Enjolras’ in the dress pants, shirt and tie.

They sit in silence.

Not looking at each other.

Not imagining things.

Not wondering what the other is thinking.

___________________________

The sound of Grantaire’s pencil on the paper is the only sound in the room. 

He is sitting on the couch in a way that he is facing Enjolras, and he isn’t going to dare move first. (Not that he is complaining about the view.)

“You know, just because you don’t understand me, doesn’t make me a starving artist.” He has no plans to tell Enjolras that the comment actually hurt his feelings.

“Well, you called me an asshole.”

“A pretentious asshole” Grantaire corrects.

“Why did you call me that though?” Enjolras turns to him.

Grantaire looks back down at his sketchpad to avoid those blue eyes.

“Answer me.” Enjolras demands. 

That should not make Grantaire’s cheeks flush.

Grantaire keeps drawing.

“Will you stop ignoring me?”

Grantaire breaks his pencil lead from pressing on it to stop his hand from shaking.

“Because you act like you are better than me, when you aren’t!” Grantaire snaps, still looking at the sketch of Enjolras in his lap.

“Will you look at me and not that damn sketchpad?” Enjolras leans over and snatches the sketchpad.

“Give that back!” Grantaire reaches to grab it before Enjolras can look at it.

Wrestling for the sketchpad, lands Grantaire pretty much in Enjolras’ lap. “Please give it back.” He begs.

“Or what?” Enjolras taunts.

Grantaire reaches up to grab the sketchpad out of Enjolras’ left hand. 

Enjolras tosses the sketchpad across the room.

“Ass.” Grantaire sneers, and then he freezes when he realizes he is - basically - straddling the blond target of his anger. (And lust, but Grantaire wouldn’t admit that. Even right now.)

Enjolras has dropped his hands to hovering at Grantaire’s hips, and he looks about as white as a ghost.

Grantaire is screaming at Enjolras in his head to grab his hips. He shakes his head, trying to focus.

Enjolras is intently looking at the middle of Grantaire’s chest.

Grantaire’s heart is racing, and his brain is a healthy mixture of wanting to hit Enjolras or to slide the rest of the way down into his lap. So much for trying to focus.

“Say something, Enjolras.” It’s the artist’s turn to taunt. “You wanted to talk.”

Enjolras just looks up at Grantaire. His eyes are wide, panicked.

“Speechless?”

Grantaire decides to play as the anger leaves his brain for now.

“Why do you have your hands floating like that?”

Enjolras swallows loud enough that Grantaire can actually hear it.

Grantaire is trying to rationalize that this is actually happening – whatever this is?

“Do you want to put them on my hips?” Grantaire slides down rest of the way into Enjolras’ lap.

Enjolras’ entire body goes rigid. His hands are still floating on either side of Grantaire.

The dark haired man leans in, “Answer me, Apollo.”

“I hate that fucking nickname.” Enjolras’ breath tickles Grantaire’s lips.

That should not excite Grantaire. None of this should. Enjolras should have pushed him off his lap by now.

Grantaire presses his luck and leans into whisper in Enjolras’ ear, “What do you want to do with your hands, Enjolras?”

Enjolras breathing quickens.

Grantaire presses a soft kiss on Enjolras’ neck. It takes every ounce of control he has to keep his composure at the fact Enjolras is allowing this.

Enjolras shivers and barely says, “To touch you.”

“Why?” Grantaire traces Enjolras’ jawline with the tips of his fingertips.

Enjolras eyes are breath taking to Grantaire right now. “Tell me, why, Enjolras.”

“I don’t know.” His voice sounds like he has ran a marathon.

Grantaire grabs Enjolras’ necktie and pulls on it. He is completely seeing how far Enjolras will let this go; while desperately trying to bury every dream he has ever had about a moment like this.

If this goes wrong, he’ll never be able to look at Enjolras again.

He wraps the tie around his hand, working his way up to Enjolras’ neck. Grantaire leans back in, whispering in the blond’s ear, “Then do it already.”

Enjolras grabs Grantaire’s hips and pulls him even closer. 

Grantaire can’t control the moan that escapes his lips.

Neither can Enjolras.

Grantaire’s lips are insanely close to Enjolras’ very flushed lips. Every muscle in Grantaire’s body is screaming for him to close the gap and kiss the man he was furious with ten minutes ago. 

The last strand of restraint holding him back snaps, and Grantaire closes the gap, kissing Enjolras. Soft and slow – teasing.

Enjolras tightens his grasp on Grantaire’s hips, causing pain to mix with the sweetness of the kiss for Grantaire. 

 

“I want you,” Grantaire whispers, breaking the kiss, and lightly biting Enjolras’ bottom lip before he pulls away.

Enjolras stops breathing, and Grantaire fears he has pushed this too far.

Before Grantaire can mentally prepare himself, Enjolras is pushing him off his lap. 

“Gah! You could just ask me to move, Enjolras!”

“You’re drunk!” Enjolras gets up and walks to his bedroom.

Grantaire can see now just how flushed Enjolras’ face is. “I am NOT drunk.”

Anger and hurt flood Grantaire’s mind, pushing out every bit of self-preservation he had left.

“Of course. The perfect and infallible Enjolras could never fall to Earth and want to be with someone broken and flawed like me.” Grantaire’s voice cracks against his will.

He turns to go into Enjolras’ bedroom while saying, “So go ahead, tell me how much of an idiot I-“

Enjolras grabs him by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall. “STOP!”

“Stop what, Enjolras?” Grantaire’s jaw is clenches together.

“Self-deprecating!”

“Why do you care? It’s not like you want me in return.” 

Enjolras’ face is a mess, making it hard for Grantaire to get a clear read on what is really happening. He closes his eyes to attempt to salvage his dignity by reigning in his emotions and the feeling of just how stupid he was for thinking this could actually happen.

“Open your eyes.” Enjolras says. It’s the most gentle Grantaire has ever heard his voice.

Grantaire obeys, but he doesn’t talk.

“I’m sorry I assumed you were drunk.” Enjolras still has a fist of Grantaire’s shirt in his hand.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” Grantaire didn’t specify, but right now he was regretting everything about this day – including being sober.

“I don’t know what to do, Grantaire.” Enjolras looks away.

“About what, Enjolras?” Grantaire snaps and then realizing the hand at his chest is shaking.

“You,” Enjolras barely answers.

Grantaire feels his stomach flip. He sucks up what courage he can to put a hand at the back of Enjolras’ neck. 

Enjolras doesn’t shrug off the embrace.

“Look at me.”

Enjolras obeys. His eyes are wide, and he looks terrified.

“What about me?” Grantaire bites his tongue, bracing himself for the answer. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and every sensation is originating from where Enjolras’ hand is still pressed into his chest.

Enjolras takes his left hand (the one not pinning Grantaire to the wall), and he cups Grantaire’s face with it. 

 

Grantaire is about two seconds from screaming. Enjolras’ hand on his face gets to him more than he thought it would. _Kiss me_ , he screams in his head.

“Answer me, Enjolras. Just tell me,” is what he says instead.

“How badly I want to kiss you again.” Enjolras admits.

“Kiss me.” Grantaire snaps.

Enjolras’ movements are quick and fluid. The hand pinning Grantaire to the wall moves to behind his neck. The one on his face begins to tangle in his curls. Enjolras slots their mouths together with a force that Grantaire wasn’t expecting. He moans into the kiss as his hands wrap around Enjolras’ back. Their bodies pressed together, Grantaire can feel his cock straining against his jeans.

Both were gasping for air when Enjolras breaks the kiss, laying his head on Grantaire’s shoulder. “I want you, too.” He whispers, which tickles Grantaire’s neck.

“Really?” Grantaire knows how heavy the disbelief resonates in his voice.

“Yes,” Enjolras says to Grantaire’s neck. He runs his right hand down Grantaire’s side.

The pinned man cannot keep from shaking feeling Enjolras’ hands trace the contours of his torso. “I never thought you’d want me in return.”

Enjolras kisses Grantaire’s exposed neck, lightly sucking on the tender skin, causing Grantaire to whimper. “I want you to straddle me.”

Grantaire grins. “You liked that.”

“Yes. Can we do that?” Enjolras asks – nicely.

“We can.” Grantaire pushes Enjolras back. He toes off his shoes, watching Enjolras copy him. 

Looking at Enjolras’ bed, Grantaire grins. He grabs Enjolras by the necktie and pulls him into a kiss. It’s quick and dirty, as Grantaire slips his tongue into Enjolras’ mouth. Never, in his right mind (or even his stupidly sloshed drunken one), did Grantaire think he’d have Enjolras at his mercy like this.

Grantaire loves it.

He pulls at the knot of Enjolras’ necktie, undoing it, and holding it in his hand. “Get on the bed. Sit with your back to the headboard.”

Enjolras sits down at the foot of the bed, slowly inching his way backwards. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Grantaire.

The look in Enjolras’ eyes is so wild, and Grantaire can barely see any of the blue that he loves so much. Grantaire’s hand fidgets with the silken tie he took from Enjolras’ neck.

“Do you trust me, Enjolras?” he asks, calmly. (Which is the complete opposite from the state of his mind at the moment.)

Enjolras nods, “Yes.”

“Are you telling me the truth now?”

“I’ve never lied to you.” Enjolras admits.

“I know. I just wanted to be sure.” Grantaire walks to the side of the bed. He wraps the tie around his wrist – for now.

Enjolras watches with this look on his face that Grantaire has never seen, but he hopes he sees it many more times.

Grantaire straddles Enjolras, pressing their hips together – both of them already very erect. He pulls at Enjolras’ shirt, untucking it from his dress slacks. Enjolras reaches in to kiss Grantaire, and the brunet snaps his head back. “No. Patience.”

Enjolras whines, which is both adorable and maddening. “Why?”

“Trust me,” Grantaire grins as he begins to unbutton Enjolras’ shirt. 

He presses kisses along Enjolras jawline as he slowly works down the buttons. Enjolras twists underneath him. Grantaire slips the shirt off Enjolras’ body, and then pulls his undershirt off.

Grantaire runs his fingers over Enjolras’ now bare chest. “You really are marble, you know that?”

Enjolras runs his hands underneath Grantaire’s shirt, pulling him tighter into him.

Grantaire sits up and pulls back. He takes Enjolras’ hands into his own and grins; as he brings the wrist with the tie to his mouth. Grantaire pulls it with his teeth, causing it to tumble from the knot he had it secured with.

Enjolras takes a deep breath in as he realizes what is about to happen. 

“Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.” Grantaire gently says, to which Enjolras nods in reply.

He lifts up just enough to tie Enjolras’ wrists tightly to the headboard with the necktie. Enjolras’ eyes never leave him, and Grantaire kisses him on the way back down. Instinct has Enjolras wanting to grab Grantaire, so he fights the restraints a little. Soft moans from Enjolras fill Grantaire’s mouth, and he tangles both of his hands into the golden curls – pulling back.

“How bad do you want this, Enjolras?” 

Grantaire sees Enjolras’ Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hurt, “Very.”

Enjolras kicks his own hips up, and Grantaire sees the desperation on his face.

“Behave and be patient.” Grantaire scolds with a grin.

Enjolras leans his head back into the headboard with a thud. Grantaire takes the chance to get at his neck, and he begins kissing at his pulse point. Sucking hard enough that it’s beginning to purple by the time he moves down, and it leaves Enjolras cursing him for being a tease.

Grantaire snickers, moving on to Enjolras’ nipple – biting it – eliciting a “Fuck!” from Enjolras.  
He reaches his hand down and begins to unhook Enjolras’ belt and slacks. Grantaire slides his, now shaking hand, under Enjolras’ boxers. He wraps his hand around Enjolras’ very stiff cock, working up and down slowly, as he continues to kiss down Enjolras’ belly.

“R – dammit.” Enjolras’ head hits the headboard again.

“Tell me, Enjolras.” Grantaire removes the hand from Enjolras’ cock so that he can completely undress him.

“I love the feeling of your hands – there – anywhere on me.”

Grantaire pulls his own shirt off, and he leaves his jeans on for now. (Even though his own cock is starting to hurt – he wants to savor Enjolras like this.)

“Do you want my hand back where it was?” 

“Yes.” Enjolras quickly answers. “Please.”

“Then spread your legs, Enjolras.” 

He does what Grantaire asks. His eyes follow Grantaire’s movements as he climbs in between his legs. Enjolras hips twitch as Grantaire’s hand wraps around his shaft. 

Grantaire licks his lips and bends down – his tongue lightly running circles around the head of Enjolras’ cock. As he takes it all into his mouth, Enjolras grunts and twists underneath him. Grantaire keeps flicking his tongue against the base of Enjolras’ cock while he sucks. With his free hand, Grantaire teases his partner’s scrotum, which makes Enjolras’ hips buck uncontrollably.

“Fuck – Grantaire –“ 

He digs his hand into the pressure point at Enjolras’ groin causing the tied up blond to yell, “God, Grantaire.”

The artist keeps up the motions with his mouth. Hearing Enjolras like this is driving his brain into overdrive. 

“Granta- I’m – clos-“ Enjolras’ voice breaks. “I can’t hold back if you keep doing that.”

Grantaire moans at the plea and quickens his motions. He wants to taste Enjolras. He wants to feel every detail of this.

He looks up briefly to say, “I want you to come in my mouth.” 

The bright-eyed look he gets from Enjolras send tingles down his spine, as he takes every inch of Enjolras into his mouth – the tip of his cock touching the back of Grantaire’s throat. He feels Enjolras getting hard, and he knows he is about to come. Enjolras’ is mumbling a mix of words and moans. Grantaire picks up his pace, sucking harder as he goes. He flicks his tongue along the bottom. Enjolras’ hips match Grantaire’s movements. 

With one final thrust into Grantaire’s mouth, Enjolras comes. Grantaire slows his movements, and then sits up. Enjolras is glowing. “You – that – amazing – dammit,” he gets out in between gasps for air.

Grantaire licks his lips and lunges forward, slotting their mouths together again. He reaches up, not breaking the kiss, and unties Enjolras, who wastes no time getting his hands back on Grantaire. Enjolras’ hands move to Grantaire’s waist, making quick time on unbuttoning his jeans. He slides a hand in and grabs Grantaire’s cock.

Grantaire groans and his head falls against Enjolras’ shoulder. “Enjolras –“ He bit down on Enjolras’ collarbone and dug his nails into his back.

“Do you want to fuck me, Grantaire?” Enjolras whispers in Grantaire’s ear, and it sounds like a fucking purr.

Enjolras’ tightened his grip and found a rhythm that had Grantaire wondering how much longer he’d last. “Yes – I want you, dammit.”

“Bottom drawer of my dresser.” Enjolras releases his grasp on Grantaire.

It takes a step or two for Grantaire to get his legs to work correctly. He opens the drawer Enjolras directed him to, finding lube and condoms amongst socks. As he walks back to the bed, he kicks off his jeans and boxers.

“Am I dreaming?” Grantaire whispers.

“No,” Enjolras hears him. “Or either we are both dreaming.”

Grantaire stands at the side of the bed, “Come here.”

Enjolras moves to sit up in front of Grantaire, who reaches out grabbing his hair and pulling him closer. He flicks his tongue against the tip of Grantaire’s cock, and then Enjolras rams his mouth down as far as he can.

“Fuck!” Grantaire shouts, tightening his grip on Enjolras’ hair to keep himself standing.

After all the waiting and wanting, feeling Enjolras sucking on him was intoxicating to Grantaire. “Enjolras.” His voice was raspy. “Stop.”

The blond looked up at him at grins. “Good to know I can make you flustered.”

“Fuck you.” Grantaire laughs.

“Please?” Enjolras asks, laying back.

Grantaire squeezes some of the lube on his fingers. He starts with one, lightly teasing as he lays down on top of Enjolras, kissing his neck. Grantaire eases the one finger in as his other hand cups the back of Enjolras’ neck. He kisses him, their tongues rubbing against each other and teething clinking together. Enjolras bites Grantaire’s lip, which elicits a moan.

“You like that.” 

“And you like being tied up.” Grantaire reminds him as he adds a finger.

Enjolras’ head falls back. Grantaire brings Enjolras’ pulse point to his mouth again – kissing and nibbling it – loving the little moans it causes Enjolras to make.

“How long have you wanted this, R?” Enjolras pieces together in between breaths.

“Since I first saw you, I haven’t been able to look away.” Grantaire slips in a third finger, and he has to tighten his grip on Enjolras’ neck to keep him close to him.

Enjolras gasps as Grantaire’s fingers hit his prostate, and Grantaire can feel Enjolras getting hard again against his wrist. He pulls Enjolras’ mouth up to meet his, and kisses him as hard as he can. It’s a messy and desperate kiss. 

Grantaire slowly pulls his fingers out, and he opens the condom, rolling it on to himself. He positions himself and eases into Enjolras. The look this creates on Enjolras’ face is one Grantaire knows he’ll dream about and sketch for weeks following this. 

He holds still while Enjolras relaxes. Grantaire is leaning over Enjolras, propped up on his arms. Enjolras moves a curl out of his face, and then traces the lines of his stubble. “Fuck me, Grantaire,” he says with a smirk.

Grantaire can’t refuse him, and he starts to thrust his hips. The feeling is better than he ever dreamed. Enjolras is watching him and touching himself. The sensory overload is almost too much for Grantaire, but he relishes in it.

He picks up speed with his movements, and Enjolras matches him. “Enjor-“ His voice breaks off. 

“Don’t stop, please.” Enjolras begs.

The moment that hits Grantaire’s ears – he is done. His hips thrust as fast as he can and as fast as Enjolras will let him. He feels the pressure building, and he knows he is close. Grantaire closes his eyes, “Enjolras.” He repeats until he feels Enjolras’ coming on his stomach. 

The pressure hits its breaking point, and Grantaire follows him. He collapses on top of Enjolras as the shivers from his orgasm hit him. Enjolras wraps his arms around Grantaire, holding him tightly to his chest. “I got you, R. I’ll always have you.”

Grantaire kisses the now rather bruised spot on Enjolras’ neck. “And I, you.” He eases off Enjolras and goes to throw the condom away.

He looks back at Enjolras, “So why were you dressed up today?”

“Work shit.” 

“Please, wear more button up shirts and ties. Please.” Grantaire grins.

“We’ll see.”

“Enjolras.”

“Yes?”  
“How long have you felt this way?” Grantaire has to ask.

Enjolras comes over to him and hugs him. “Since I saw you the first time.”

“Really?”

“Are you going to ask me really anytime I tell you something nice?” Enjolras kisses him gently.

“Maybe?” Grantaire laughs. “You know, we can’t really kill Combeferre now. I think this calls for like a thank you card.”

“I don’t think Hallmark makes _‘Thank you for helping me realize my mounting sexual tension for a man I pretended to hate but secretly pinned for daily.’_ ” 

“I could make him one.” Grantaire retorts.

“I could hit you.”

“No you wouldn’t. You love me.” Grantaire says.

“Yeah, I do love you.”

“Really?” Grantaire can’t help himself as he bites his lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Grantaire.”

The brunet smiles, “I love you, too!”  
_________________________________

It’s two in the morning before Combeferre braves the apartment again. The lights are out, which makes Combeferre think: 1) Enjolras sent Grantaire home in a cab or 2) They killed each other, and the police have already cleared the bodies away.

He walks down the hall, turning on the hallway light, and peaks into Enjolras’ room. Combeferre finds a tangled mass of Enjolras and Grantaire cuddled together.

No way does Combeferre take a picture with his cell phone.

No way does he mass text every one of their friends.

No way would that text say “FUCKING FINALLY!”

No. Combeferre would never do such things.

Combeferre leaves and heads to his room just in time before the reply texts flood his phone.


End file.
